


That Which Is Hath Been Before

by Crowgirl



Series: On the Strength of the Evidence [55]
Category: Grantchester (TV)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Children, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Growing Up, M/M, Unconventional Families, Years Later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-23 21:36:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13796838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowgirl/pseuds/Crowgirl
Summary: ‘Uncle Sidney -- he’s not -- really related to us, is he?’





	1. Chapter 1

‘Mum.’

Cathy glances back over her shoulder, then continues drying the teapot. ‘Yes, love.’

She can hear Esme shifting her weight from foot to foot and braces herself for a request they probably won’t have the money to fulfill.

‘Uncle Sidney -- he’s not -- really related to us, is he?’

Cathy gives the side of the teapot a last polish and puts it down gently on the counter. She can hear the sounds of her other children outside in the garden; a bark, too -- Dickens must have been sent home with them as often happens if they return from school past the vicarage. She takes a minute to shake out the damp towel over the sink, buying herself time, and then turns to face her daughter. ‘No, not by blood.’

Esme has her hands gripped together before her so tightly her knuckles have gone white. ‘Then -- why is he -- here so much?’

Cathy pauses before she answers. The possible ramifications of the question are too many for her so she tries to simplify it. ‘Is he in your way somehow?’

Esme shakes her head hard enough to bring some wisps of hair loose from her braid. ‘No -- oh, _no,_ no -- it’s not that, it’s always lovely when he’s here but --’ She falls silent again, twisting her hands together.

‘But what?’ Cathy prompts.

‘One of the boys -- at school --’

 _Oh, Christ,_ Cathy thinks and sighs silently to herself. ‘What about the boys at school?’ Esme's blush tells her everything she needs to know -- this isn't just _one_ boy.

‘Well, they were -- teasing Ivy. About what a bad girl she must be that the vicar’s always over here. And then--’ Esme stops, biting her lower lip hard enough to leave white dents around her teeth. ‘Oh, Mum, they were just -- being _awful_ and I wanted to say something but I didn’t know what to say!’

Cathy is aware that she's wiping her hands over and over with the towel and makes herself stop. ‘Did you help Ivy?’

Esme purses her lips and shakes her head as if her mother is being deliberately dim. ‘Yes, of course. I said Dora was asking for her and brought her back inside. But -- she was so upset -- she kept asking me if Uncle Sidney was angry at her.’

‘What did you tell her?’

‘Of course he isn’t!’ Esme's tone is almost indignant, and she draws herself up to her full height. ‘He's _never_ angry with us.’

Cathy nods. ‘True enough.’

Esme nods back and, for a brief moment, Cathy could almost imagine she’s seeing herself in a mirror, the movement is so much her own. For a minute, Esme looks more composed, then the worry lines come back on her face, far too young and smooth to have them. ‘Those boys -- I know they tease her other times and --’

‘What were they saying?’

‘Oh, just -- just _awful_ things.’

‘But what?’

‘Mum--’

‘Come on.’ Cathy crosses her arms. ‘There’s not a lot I haven’t heard before.’

Esme blushes and speaks so quickly the words almost run together. ‘That you and -- or -- or that you and -- and Dad -- oh, _Mum,_ I don’t want to say it!’

Cathy nods, working to keep an expression of calm she doesn’t feel, and goes across the kitchen, sliding her arm over Esme’s shoulder. ‘It’s all right, love. They’re just boys with nothing better to do with their time than think up nasty things.’

She’s aware as she speaks that, if she’s guessing correctly -- and she probably is -- the ‘nasty things’ are probably quite close to the truth. Or at least no further off than what’s been whispered behind her back at the WI. But it isn’t all her story to tell. She’s damned if she’s going to stand in her kitchen in the middle of a bright May afternoon and try to explain to the daughter who she still thinks of as a child for all that she’s well on towards thirteen that Esme has really had four parents for most of her life.

Esme leans against her mother, shaking her head. ‘It just -- it wasn’t--’ She can’t find the word and trails into silence.

‘The next time you hear them saying anything like that, you tell them to come talk to me, all right?’ Cathy squeezes Esme’s shoulder and tries to make her voice as firm and comforting as she can. ‘Me or your dad.’


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘I -- I don’t think the other girls have -- have --’

Geordie doesn’t hear the words of the question, he just hears someone calling what _sounds_ like a question from the door of the master bedroom. Being halfway under his bed in search of his watch at the time, he’s not in a position to do much more than yell over his shoulder: ‘What was that?’

There's the sound of footsteps and then an amused voice: ‘Dad, what are you doing?’

Watch just beyond the tips of his fingers, Geordie closes his eyes and curses silently for a minute. 

They've been so _careful_ to keep the kids from coming in these rooms. Of course, they assumed that Esme, at least, and probably Ivy had figured out how the rooms lay in relation to each other -- bathroom on one side of the hall landing, the master bedroom on the other, the servant’s hall leading around to this room that they all called Sidney’s, the connecting door between that and the master bedroom -- but that was different than actually being _in_ them. He tries to picture what the master bedroom looked like the last time he walked through but that had been days ago and God only knew what Cath and Caro had left about. And then why is he in here on his own in a room clearly being occupied only by one man but with the accumulated trimmings of two? ‘Dropped me watch.’

‘Can I help?’

‘No, no…’ He stretches the last inch, grabs the end of the wriststrap, and begins to back out. He flips over as he wriggles backwards the last few inches and finds himself looking up at Esme who appears to be working very hard not to laugh.

‘Oh, Dad…’ She leans over and offers him a hand then, when he’s on his feet, smacks fluff off his clothes with an expression that reminds him of Cathy.

‘Was there something you wanted?’

She plucks a last piece of lint off his sleeve. ‘I wanted to tell you we’re going down to the beach. And did Uncle Sidney send _The Hobbit_ with you?’

‘'The what? Oh! No, he didn’t -- why?’ Geordie concentrates on fastening the strap of his watch before he looks up at her again. Her eyes are entirely too sharp for his liking. 

‘Dora's fussing about the riddle contest. I don’t suppose _you_ know what happens? Just so I can tell her Bilbo will be all right? You know how she gets.’

Remembering how Dora had cried herself to sleep over the flooded-out Borrowers, Geordie nods, then shakes his head. ‘No, love, sorry, no idea. All I know is what Dora’s told me.’ He glances at the clock on the bedside table and fumbles in his pocket. ‘Tell you what, though -- I think your aunt was going to go into town--’ He counts the silver in his palm and motions to Esme to hold her hand out; she does and he pours the coins into her hands. ‘If the library doesn’t have a copy, try the bookshop. Sidney wouldn’t want Dora so upset she can't enjoy herself.’

Esme flicks the coins over with her thumb and nods solemnly, then smiles. ‘Thanks, Dad.’ She hesitates for a minute, then says, ‘I wish Uncle Sidney were here to read it to us instead.’

Geordie nods. ‘I’m sure he does, too.’

‘You miss him, don’t you?’

Geordie swallows and tries for a nonchalant shrug; he’s not sure how well it comes out given that he’s been aware of Sidney's absence every hour of the time they've been here. 

Esme carefully stows the coins in the pocket of her dress. She reaches out to touch his arm and Geordie nearly flinches, then curses himself, and makes himself hold still. This is his _daughter,_ for God’s sake -- and he’s been so carefully _not_ thinking about whether or not she might be putting two and two together on her own that the sudden consciousness that she probably has been is making him feel a little ill. 

But here and now his daughter is looking at him, waiting for an answer.

‘It seems -- a little -- quiet without him,’ Geordie tries. ‘He’s been coming with us for so long now.’

Esme nods slowly, looking down and smoothing the front of her skirt. ‘I -- I don’t think the other girls have -- have --’

 _Have figured it out._ Geordie hears the words as clearly as if she had shouted them and he can feel the blood leave his face.

‘Dad -- _Dad!_ Don’t look like that!’ Esme grabs his elbow as if he might faint and, for a moment, he's not sure she isn’t right; he can hear a deep buzzing in his ears and his mouth tastes dry and metallic. He’s aware of Esme pushing him backwards, the mattress at the backs of his knees, sitting down hard, and Esme still talking to him: ‘I’m sorry -- I didn’t -- do you want me to get Mum?’

‘No -- no, no --’ Geordie coughs, makes himself pull in a deep breath, holds it for a minute until he’s sure he won’t vomit, and then lets it out slowly. ‘No, ‘m fine -- just --’

Esme sits on the very edge of the mattress beside him, still holding his hand. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to -- I just wanted you to know that I -- that you didn’t have to worry about me.’ She lets his hand go and folds hers together in her lap and stares down at them.

Geordie takes one last, trembling breath and makes himself let it out slowly. ‘We -- didn’t know how -- we --’ No, this isn’t on Cathy or Caro, this is all him. ‘ _I_ didn’t know what I should say.’ 

‘I know.’ Esme glances sideways at him, then back at her hands. ‘We all -- we all love Uncle Sidney.’ She hesitates for a moment, then goes on steadily: ‘And Aunt Caro. We wouldn’t -- we don’t -- want anything to happen. To any of you.’

Geordie puts a hand on her shoulder and when she immediately sighs and leans towards him, puts his arm around her and tugs her in against his side, as if she were seven and tired of her maths problems instead of nearly seventeen. ‘Don’t worry, love. We’ll be all right.’

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [Sonnet LIX](http://www.bartleby.com/70/50059.html).
> 
> Technically speaking, this chapter of [Made Glorious Summer](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9851633/chapters/31542939) comes next and _then_ the second chapter of this.
> 
> Thanks as always to the best and most darling of all betas, [elizajane](http://archiveofourown.org/users/elizajane), [the Lady Kivrin](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kivrin).


End file.
